Still, Untitled
by Natsianthem
Summary: Two teenagers travelling meet a character they don't expect
1. Chapter 1

Rolling up her sleeves and stretching her arms out in front of her, Al briefly attempted to examine her fingernails through blurred vision. Lifting up her arms above her head and yawning, she brought her body in with the circle her arms had made and stood up.

The air was crisp, which meant nothing to Al, except that it was cold. Serr commented on how the joy of the morning seemed profuse, even in the animals. In the silence that followed, Al strained to listen, but could hear nothing. She told him so. There was the buzz of insects somewhere off in the near distance, but no bird called and no squirrel scampered. The mules were eating their breakfast.

Serr only looked at her tellingly, but the message was lost in translation, and Al shrugged and sat down in the wagon. It was too early to be awake, despite what Serr might say, despite his threats. He was, after all, a bit of a moron, and you could never have too much sleep.

Watchful in the relative comfort of her new position, Al examined Serr through one leaded eye. She saw his long, craggily blonde hair fall over his supple physique, muscles sliding underneath his clothing as he prepared and repacked the wagon. She wanted to know, as she did every morning, why they couldn't just take a car. Serr told her she was an idiot, as he was prone to. The reasoning had been sound when they set out. Why did she keep forgetting it?

Both Serr and Al knew the reason for her lapse in memory. Al resented Serr for knowing it, and she resented him for being so much like herself. There was something small and vague that bothered her, but ever-present, like a mosquito. She had difficulty putting her finger on what exactly it was, but then she decided it wasn't important.

Serr finished with the cart, which he had insisted they call 'the wagon'. Al snuggled down in it, amongst their luggage. Her eyes took in the expansive sky and scenery, and the scent of mule filled her nostrils. The wagon rumbled, the animal pulled, and the wheels turned.

Later, Al was walking slowly alongside the wagon, picking at the straw in her hat that flopped too close to her eyes.  
"Hey Serr."

"Mmm," was the response she got. Serr's legs and body were cramped into the wagon, limbs spilling out the sides.

Suddenly Al struggled, briefly, with her footing, scampering up a short ways and guiding the mules up a sudden incline in the valley. The mule with the packs led the way, a stubborn, loyal, and impressive animal with emotion in its eyes. The mule that followed was also strong and steady, but lacked the brilliance of character that the other possessed. They made it up all right, but not without jostling the cart considerably.

Nevertheless, through it all were wisps of Serr's soft, contented snoring, which sounded to Al's kind ears like sighs on the wind. Al had forgotten what she had wanted to say, her breath coming too hard and loud for talking to be practical anymore. She shifted the backpack she wore on her waist and shoulders, and wandered off into the waving prairie grasses of her private thoughts. It was the land of no return, Serr liked to tease, but this time there would be no light whisper to jostle her from her reverie. At least not for a while.

It wasn't until sun had crossed its zenith that Serr awoke. Looking up at the sky he judged it was about time they had lunch and let the animals rest. Al certainly was not averse to that plan. There was no sign of water running anywhere near, so Al was forced to ensure that they rationed what amount they had left. They took their water in canteens, and set up a small bucket for each mule.

Serr raised a small canopy for shade and unpacked the loaded mule with Al's assistance. It was crackers and cheese for that day, and Serr judged they could each have a piece of fruit as a reward. They ate wordlessly, both too far past the point at which silence bothered them to be filling the space with idle conversation.

It wasn't until the laziness and heat of the afternoon began to wear on them both that Al tried to grasp what she had begun to say earlier. They had left the tent with the animals, but kept both in sight.

"Serr, don't you ever feel that life is a little..."  
Serr had groaned a few seconds after the word 'life'. He rolled his eyes and looked at her.  
"Don't tell me," he warned.  
"What?" Al asked, all innocence.  
"You're one of those..."  
"Yeah?"  
"Brood dudes."  
"Brood dude?" She asked.  
"Yeah. A dude who likes to brood about stuff." Al face fell, her eyes round, as if she couldn't believe her ears.  
"Oh. My. God." Serr just barely laughed. "But don't you think life is a little boring?" She spat out hurriedly.  
"Yeah." Serr said without pausing. He stopped. "Yeah, it is."

"I just hope that it's not too late to change things."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: **This isn't completely polished yet, but I felt I should post something so there you have it. Any names, places, or artifacts from previously published stories, or any allusions to such- I relinquish my claim to. I "own" none of it... except of course for Al and Serr, who are my children first and foremost. Yet I still wouldn't say I own them. Quite the contrary._

Al and Serr could well talk of changing things, but in the end it was just that, talk, and Al knew it. Serr knew it too, and so the conversation didn't go much further.

It was one reason they had embarked on the journey together, to make it more than just talk. But to Al, what they were doing was just a clever way of avoiding the problem. The entire journey was talk, just in another form. And then there were other reasons, none any more or less discreetly guarded, for their trek. Al admired Serr with a grudging respect which she had once believed might be more, back when she first learned that Serr had returned her feelings. But the spring of their early relationship had long since flown into summer, the fall and harvest upon them. They shivered and did not know what to expect.

Al had several books with her, recommendations she had asked for from her friends along with photographs and phone numbers, as graduation presents. She had been blessed with prompt and compelling replies. She sometimes read these selections while she walked or sat in the cart. Serr slept, or talked, or sung while he worked. It was a long while before Al started to notice that some of her books had gone missing, but they always returned by the end of the day. If Serr had taken them and read some of them himself, he was very low-key about the whole thing. If Al tried to bother him about it, he merely shrugged and evaded her questions.

When they got back to their rest stop area, Al and Serr each were humming a different tune. Al was improvising to a vaguely familiar Disney song, but Serr's haunting melody seemed to have no origin or classification. Al wouldn't ask what song he was humming, and she doubted Serr would tell her. The mules had stayed where they left them, but one had made a large pile of droppings in front of their wagon. Al swore and stepped over it to grab her backpack.

Serr was re-harnessing one of the mules and was preparing to strap the pack back on the other when Al stepped in to help him. A sharp, hot afternoon wind blew across the hillside.  
"Thunderstorm tonight," Serr predicted, looking up at the sky.  
"You think so?" Al asked, shaking her hair out of its ponytail. Serr gave her a sheepish grin.  
"I hope so." Al held onto the mule's lead with one hand, holding her scrunchie with the other as Serr tightened the straps a final time. She waited for him to bring his head back up and follow it with his body. He stood up beside her. She brought the mule in line in front of the other one. Serr made sure everything was put into place.  
"Well I hope you're wrong," Al said. Serr thought for a moment.  
"Guess so," he acquiesced. "We'll see." They shouldered their backpacks. "Come on," Serr began to pull on the lead of the pack mule. "Hep." He said "Hep, hep, let's go,"

They went. They went until the sun started setting and those who prowled the night started stirring. Usually the pair still traveled for a few hours after the sun set, until their eyes drooped under the strain of peering through the dark and they thought it best to conserve flashlight battery. They set up a limited watch, and woke before dawn.

The sun sent a profuse golden glow streaking across the horizon. A hill, which looked to Al's weary eyes as the biggest hill she had ever seen, even though it obviously wasn't, towered above them with grim definitiveness. The hill wasn't especially steep. She had scaled far steeper, taller ones than this. That was then. Now the task seemed hopelessly daunting. Worse, it seemed pointless, and the brief thought overwhelmed an already exhausted Al, consumed her. She knew not where the sudden fatigue sprang from, but it didn't matter. She stopped abruptly.

"No." The moment the word escaped her lips Al knew from the depths of her being it was the utter truth. She started blinking rapidly. Serr merely looked up and smiled.  
"I guess you're right. Of course. We're camping here." Al's glance told him quite clearly that he was insane. He returned her with a gaze with a look that said she was probably right, once again. The question was lost on Al's lips, her words vanishing into the darkening air.  
"No," she whispered, vaguely. Suddenly her lung cage contracted. For a brief panicked moment of suffocation, her limbs shook, feeling like lead. With her backpack safely in the cart, she allowed herself to kneel down for the dizzying second of disorientation. It passed, leaving no evidence of its stay, but Al remained close to the ground in recovery. She felt suddenly lost, weak, abandoned.

"Al." The ringing in her ears hadn't quite faded yet. She shook her head. "Al." Serr repeated, more insistently. The tears were falling readily now, she couldn't wipe them away fast enough. The fact that she was crying in front of Serr made her furious, and that in turn only made her cry harder.  
"Go away," insisted Al, her voice soft and hoarse. "I'm fine."  
"Oh I know. Freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional. Gotcha." Serr gave her the double thumbs up as a bonus, but Al didn't see it. Minutes that seemed like seconds or seconds that stretched like hours, Al wasn't sure how much time was passing. Apparently Serr was staying, the stubborn twit. He offered his hand where she could see it and grab it. Al refused it, then with hesitation finally took it. He helped her stand, putting her arm in his and leading her away from the bare patch of dirt and rock where she had fallen. Al didn't remember wandering so far from the wagon. It took forever, but they made it back at long last.

Al was leaning against the wagon, trying to regain her composure. Her body shook with dry sobs, making her useless in setting up camp. Serr was a capable, and did not resent the enormity of his chore. He did not ask questions, did not fuss over Al, which instead of gratifying her had the opposite effect. Al was angry over being disadvantaged, forsaken so suddenly. It wasn't something she could explain, but unlike all the other times, these self-pitying tears meant something. She really believed she had been injured, robbed. This time she was innocent, but no one would hear her case. She cursed the clouds that rinsed the dirt off her knees, pooling it into mud among the grasses at her feet. Serr walked over and placed one of her books on her backpack, whistling to the tune of Bohemian Rhapsody. He said nothing, offered no explanation. Al took it and turned over to the cover, noting it's title. One of her favorites.

Al watched the dark forms sliding past each other in the sky, blotting out the stars. Then the first bolt of lightning struck, illuminating a figure cast in heavy robes, bent double over a long walking stick. The image appeared not ten yards away, then fell into darkness as the lightning flashed out. Al took a step forward then froze. Above the wind, she thought she heard the sound of a soft but deadly cough. She cried out, fell back against the wagon as thunder boomed from all sides.


End file.
